Alcohol
by Rionabelle
Summary: Pete come home from the Warehouse late and things aren't quite... right... PetexMyka. Pyka. T for suggestiveness and... well.. Alcohol. Fluff. D


**Warehouse 13 One shot. MykaxPete. Fluff. T. yay. **

**See you at the bottom. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own. And frankly I'm not creative enough to come up with all those artifacts. **

Pete came back from the Warehouse late, where Claudia, Artie and Lena were pulling an all-nighter trying to get… something to work right. Honestly he didn't care. All he cared about was crawling into bed beside Myka and holding on to her while he passed out for 12 or more hours. He was_ tired_.

As he kicked off his shoes next to the kitchen counter, he noticed the light in the hallway and a completely empty vodka bottle on the counter. That worried him. He didn't mind if there was alcohol in the B&B for everyone else – in their line of work, you just sometimes needed a drink – and he was plenty able to resist it. But he knew that that bottle was full 8 hours ago when Artie pour himself (and not Claudia, to her dismay) a small glass before starting in on the thing they were stressing out about now.

When he walked over to investigate, he heard a hard thumping and crashing from the stairs and was diverted. As he emerged into the hall, he saw his girlfriend of four and a half months – and partner and best friend of like four and a half years – stumbling backwards and about to take a spill down the stairs.

"Whoa!" Immediately Pete jumped into action. Taking the steps two or three at a time, he made it to her before she was able to hurt herself.

"Eeepppp!" Suddenly the world stopped tipping around Myka and she found herself in warm strong arms that have been come all too familiar. Not that she's complaining.

Angling her head to look up and behind her, she found his face, "Pete?"

At her startled voice, Pete pulled her closer and a little straighter, "Hey you. Forget how to walk?"

Myka giggled and snuggled her back into his chest, making no effort to stand on her own. Pete was completely thrown. Myka doesn't giggle. Sure, she laughs. All the time, mostly at him. But _never_ giggling.

Then he remembered the missing booze.

"Um… Myka…"

"Mmmm…." Her sigh come out almost as a mew and instinctively Pete pulled her tighter against his body.

"Did you drink Artie's vodka?"

"Yeah," Myka sighed deeply, turning on her heel. Now facing him with her arms wrapped around his torso, Myka buried her face in his neck.

"All of it?" Pete asked incredulous. There was no one else who could have drank it, but Myka never drank that much. And that was a big freakin' bottle.

"Yeah. But I didn't mean to. It was just really, _really_ good," the words were muffled and distorted but he could tell that she was saying. And it basically translated into she was drunk off her ass.

He wasn't really sure what he was supposed to do with this little tid-bit of information so he was just content to hold her for now. Surely she would past out and he'd just carry her up to her bed. Or she puke… All over him. He really hoped it was the first one.

Eventually Myka's voice – small, but very clear – floated to his ears, "Pete…"

"Yeah?"

Her next words were barely a whisper and pressed hard against his chest, so he couldn't understand a word of it, "What was that, babe?"

He felt her take a deep breath and pulled back slightly, "Will you kiss me and take me upstairs and make love to me?"

And he was floored.

It wasn't the sex thing. Well, mostly. I mean they've had sex before, that wasn't the issue. She's just never that direct about it. Hell, Myka could be direct – and tactful at the same time, something he couldn't get or do – about everything but affection and her feelings. And the reason bugged the hell out of him.

She was unbelievably self-conscious. She really didn't think she was that attractive. The wirings of the female mind never ceased to confuse poor Agent Lattimer.

So it took him a minute to be able to respond.

"Myka, you're drunk," he deadpanned. He wasn't denying her – he never could, something she should have known even in her drunken daze – but she seemed to take it that way.

He felt her tense and she quickly whipped her head up to look him in the eye. She swayed a little in his arms and her eyes unfocused a bit from the sudden movement, but she righted herself soon enough and started to talk really fast.

"No, it'd be okay. I brushed my teeth three times, promise. You can kiss me," she was looking up at him with big wide shining eyes, looking for all the world that his acceptance was the only thing holding her world together.

And he really wanted to tell her that her everything was okay and that he loved her, but really did not get her logic. How on her does brushing her teeth deal with anything right now? And he really didn't care if she brushed her teeth most of the time. He's made out with her when she's had morning breath. A lot. And three times? _What?_

"Myka…. What does that…? Why would you have had to brush your teeth?"

She stood up straighter now, moving in front of him rather cuddled into his side, "I don't taste like it anymore. You can kiss me."

Okay now Pete was all too aware that when really hammered, even puppies farting rainbows and crickets made sense in some way. He just absolutely could not see any connection to what she was talking about. But it seemed to be extremely important to her.

When he just kept on staring at her, Myka tried to pull away – a huge blush blossoming on her face and looking down at her feet. She began mumbling to their shoes, "I just wanted… wanted you and I knew that you wouldn't want to kiss me after all that. I really didn't mean to. I don't want to make it harder on you. So I thought I could brush the taste away..."

That's when it all clicked. She tried to wash out the lingering alcohol in her mouth. She wasn't just being drunk and weird. She was trying to take care of him.

Other small things were starting to fall in place as well. When he had gotten closer to the bottle in the kitchen he saw that it was _completely_ empty – rinsed out. There hadn't even been a glass with anything left (of course she could have just drank out of the bottle, but that didn't really seem like Myka's style – then again neither did downing the whole bottle). Actually, now that he thought about it, after drinking that much liquor, she should reek of it. But all she smelled like was her perfume. _**A lot**_ of her perfume. How did he not notice that before? It was like five times what she normally would wear.

Suddenly his heart clenched tight in his chest. No one has ever thought about things like that. Yeah, he's kissed a girl in the beginning who was drunk (we won't go into that) and the lingering taste had made him uncomfortable and he really had to fight not to fall of the wagon. After that he made a pretty conscious effort not to kiss anyone who had more than a drink.

But that thought had never crossed his mind with Myka. He was all for taking her upstairs and doing whatever the heck she wanted. But it clearly had concerned her. Even crazy drunk and confused, she cared – no, loved him enough to think it through.

He realized that Myka was still babbling one, and he decided that it was time to stop her.

He gripped her by her shoulders and pushed her back against the wall, attacking her with his lips. He felt her tense under his sudden motion, but soon enough she responded, leaning into his weight, moving her lips hastily.

As he pushed into her mouth, sure enough, he tasted the overwhelming mint of her toothpaste. On the back of her tongue there was just the slightest hint of alcohol, but that didn't bother him at all.

Nipping at her lower lip and kissing away the minor hurt, Pete rested his forehead against her. She was panting harder than probably necessary.

"I love you," Pete told her, staring deeply into her eyes.

"Love you too," Myka responded, slightly dazed.

Then he broke into a large mischievous grin, and quickly scooping her up into his arms. This elicited another squeak from Myka and Pete proceeded to lug her upstairs to give her what she wanted.

**There you go! I have no experience with alcoholism or being really drunk, and I have NO idea why/how Myka could have possibly drunken all that, but it's just meant to be a cute one shot. I got the idea one day when lying in bed, and while writing it I as watching "Merge with Caution" and Myka was really concerned about how he was going to deal with the drinks she had had. So that just further fueled my insanity. Yay!**


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